


The Meaning of Flowers

by Magizinu



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Bull is Learning How to Love, Developing Relationship, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Flower Language, M/M, Yelran is a Hopeless Romantic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:02:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25808533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magizinu/pseuds/Magizinu
Summary: While the Inquisitor and Bull negotiate their new relationship, Yelran struggles to communicate the things he's feeling for the Qunari. And because they're keeping it under wraps for now, he falls back on an old Fereldan tradition of giving flowers.
Relationships: Iron Bull & Original Male Character(s), Iron Bull/Male Lavellan
Comments: 1
Kudos: 16





	The Meaning of Flowers

  
This was the third time Bull had found a bundle of flowers wrapped in twine outside his door. He picks them up and replaces the last bunch he had gotten, now wilted and dry in the mug of water. These new ones were much smaller than the others, tiny clusters of white on thin stalks that spread out from the centre. It smelled more like an herb than a flower, sort of lemony and minty. 

He had a hunch who was leaving the flowers. It was less than a month ago that Bull had appeared in Yelran’s quarters after months of flirting and hints. To his delight, Yelran had eagerly returned his interest, and on that night Bull had given him his first time. To say that Yelran was an eager partner was an understatement. He was enthusiastic and curious about everything, and a quick learner when it came to sex. But they had agreed to keep quiet about their relationship for now. Bull tried to keep it casual, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t deny the tightness he felt in his chest every time Yelran laughed or kissed his cheek or smiled at him. 

Knowing their mutual desire to keep quiet for now, sending flowers seemed like a perfect way to express his affection without doing it openly. But it seemed too gentle, too romantic, two things their relationship definitely wasn’t. When they were alone together, he wouldn’t describe it as romantic. It was passion in its rawest form, scraped clean of any concealment or fluff. It was hunger. It was _lust_. 

It could be one of the kitchen girls he had had relations with before, but he doubted it, unless they wanted another go. The idea seemed extremely unappealing, which confused him somewhat.

Mmh. The thought of the inquisitor gave him that same constricting, wonderful feeling in his chest, and he growled. What exactly was this, and when would it stop? And why did he like it so much? 

Maybe he would find him and invite him to his quarters. That would distract him well enough. The elf was making him feel things he never had before, and it scared him. Was this just lust, but really intense? He settled on that. This was just pent up energy. Well, he knew how to fix that. 

* * *

Later, he needed to talk to Sera briefly about their next mission. They were to scout the ramparts of Crestwood, killing any undead that spawned there. Sera hated the things, and he’d seen her get unreasonably angry over it. She assured him it wouldn’t happen again, and their conversation moved on to lighter things. 

“You know, I still think you’d have a tactical advantage if you stood on my shoulders. We’d be a walking siege platform.”

Sera barks a laugh. “Oh piss off, if I fall it’ll be broken ribs for two weeks. You wanna be eight feet in the air, ride a dragon.”

“Oh, could you imagine riding into battle on one of those things? Bastards would die of fright before you got to do anything.”

“Maybe that’s why Coryphenus keeps that shit-face around, to scare everyone into submission. It can’t make a nice pet.” 

“Not unless you’re ok with your bed being a fireplace.” He chuckled, moving to get up. Then he paused, faltering. 

“Hey, Sera. Have you been finding flowers outside your door?” 

She gawked at him. “What?”

“I keep finding flowers put outside my door, do you have any idea who it could be?”

“Don’t ask me, I don’t know shite about that. Maybe someone who wants to bed you?”

“If that’s the case, they could just ask. No point beating about the bush.”

Sera lost it at that, and Bull watched her convulse in laughter with amused confusion. “You should figure out what message they’re sending, then come ask me for advice.”

“Huh?” Message? What message could be sent by a bundle of flowers?

“Oh right, I almost forgot you’re Qunari. Well, Fereldans have this thing, right. They call it flower language. Each flower has a meaning, and you can tell someone what you think of them with certain flowers.”

“What? Really!?”

“Yeah, crazy, right? I was never big into it, but there’s whole books published on it by tits with no life. I’m sure you can find one in the library.”

“I’ll take a look.”

“You know, I might have an idea who’s been leaving those flowers.” Sera drawled. Bull raised his brows at her. 

“Oh yeah? Who?”

“Have you considered the inquisitor?”

Fuck. What had she picked up on? He trusted Sera, but he didn’t want to expose their relationship before Yelran was ready. It would cause a stir, one he should be prepared for in advance. 

“I doubt he has time to leave flowers at his friend’s doorways.”

“Pfft. Friends? Have you seen the way he looks at you? Like you’re a delicious pastry and he’s starving.” 

“A lot of people look at me like that. It’s normal to have fantasies, doesn’t mean they act on it.”

“Fantasy and hunger. Two different things, right? Look I’m just saying it’s a possibility. More likely, it’s just one of the maids with a little flower garden and one too many books. You’re supposed to be a spy, do some spying and find out.” 

* * *

After about thirty minutes of searching and a few intrusive questions from Dorian, Bull managed to locate a book on the subject, called ‘The meanings of Fereldan Flowers’. It was old and aged, but from what he could tell was his only option. He shoved it in a drawer in his quarters to read later. There was something, or someone, that he couldn’t get off his mind, and it was becoming distracting. 

* * *

He found Yelran talking to Cabot, the bartender, in a quiet tone. So he waited until he was done. Yelran turned and spotted him watching, and gave him a shy smile. 

“Hey there. Got a few minutes?” He murmurs, daring to stroke his arm with a curled finger. There weren’t many people in the tavern, it was a little too early in the afternoon. He notices his ears swivel forward, lowering slightly. 

“For you, yes.” 

They take two separate ways, Bull going out the back door of the tavern to their secret spot in a nook behind the building. Yelran is already there, arms crossed and leaning against the stone wall of the ramparts. 

Bull runs his hands up and down his arms, humming deeply. 

“Are you busy tonight?”

He watches Yelran’s face change from excitement at the question to disappointment. “Yes. I have a meeting with Leliana, I expect it’ll run well into the night. Some noble dispute.” He frowns, looking at Bull apologetically. 

“Hey, that’s ok. Inquisitorial duties first.” He leans forward to place kisses along his forehead and brow, then his cheek. Yelran groans. 

“I… What about tomorrow?” He cups Bull’s neck, and he wonders yet again at just how small his hands are. Well, at least compared to him. 

“Tomorrow.” He huffs. “No, I can’t. The chargers are doing drills with the soldiers, there’s a lot they still need to learn.” 

Yelran sighs. “Alright. Sometime soon. I long for your touch.” 

Had anyone else said that to him, Bull would have laughed. It sounded like something straight out of an old Tevinter romance novel. But Yelran said it so genuinely, he didn’t even think to laugh. 

He kissed him properly now, closed and sweet at first, teasing and pulling away. But apparently Yelran wasn’t having it, deepening the kiss by gripping his horns. It made Bull groan in pleasure to feel his hands squeeze his horns, which were quite perceptive to touch. Usually he asked his partners to refrain touching them, but he found himself wanting Yelran to touch him there. Perhaps he didn’t know it, but it was a show of trust from the Qunari. 

He let the kiss get more intense until they were breathing in huffs through their noses, moving against each other in an effort to get closer. He sucked Yelran’s lip into his mouth, relishing at the strangled sound that drew from the elf. 

Finally he pulled away, breathing heavily. But his breath caught in his throat when he looked at Yelran’s face. His ears were lowered what he’d expect was as far as they could go. His face was flushed and his lips swollen and curved into a lopsided smile, and Bull swallowed hard. He looked strikingly beautiful. 

“Kiss me like that, I’m tempted to just skip the meeting.” Both of them knew he wouldn’t, though. Yelran took all his duties deadly seriously, no matter how seemingly inconsequential. But the idea was tempting. 

“Mmmh. You’re a fast learner, Lavellan.”

Yelran hums, placing a chaste kiss to his cheek. 

“I should probably go, or they’ll start looking for me.” 

“Alright. Good luck, little one.” 

Yelran blushes at the name. He squeezes Bull’s hand in goodbye, and he watches the inquisitor leave, admiring his toned form recede from afar. 

* * *

With nothing else to do that day, he turns in to his quarters early after checking up that the chargers were ready for training tomorrow. He worked on a return letter to the Ben-Hassrath about the state of the rebel mages for about an hour, putting the quill down after it was halfway done. It was exhausting to word every sentence in a way that didn’t reveal too much but made them think the information was useful. 

Tired, he almost forgot about the book he had picked up until he opened the drawer to take out a washbasin and found it. With nothing better to do, he sat on the bed and flipped through it. 

The book categorized the flowers by color and offered illustrations to help identify them, which was useful considering he had no clue what the name of most flowers were. He only knew the common ones used in potions and poultices. 

He’d expected flowers to represent simple things, like love or hate. Instead, he found extensive paragraphs written about each one. This went deeper than he’d expected. He even caught a glance at one flower that meant ‘elope with me’. Why Fereldans needed plants to communicate that was beyond him. 

The flowers he had now were white and small, and smelled more like an herb than anything. At first he thought they were baby’s breath, a similar-looking white flower, but upon closer inspection, it seemed those didn’t grow in clumps. The closest thing to his was Coriander. The description read;

“Coriander. Actually an herb common in Orlesian cooking, it sprouts annual bunches of flowers that give off little scent other than that of the mother plant. However, this unassuming spice takes on a whole different meaning when the flowers are harvested and given as a gift. The giver of these flowers is feeling a deep lust for the receiver, and the message couldn’t be sent any louder than with a bouquet of Coriander blooms. It’s meaning formed when in the late Divine era, it’s seeds were discovered to be a rather potent aphrodisiac….”

Oh. He got it now. The searing looks across the tavern, the secret smiles he flashed before they retired to their tents, the hidden caresses under the table during meetings. Yelran was trying to show him his affection, his desire, but the ways he knew how to do so wasn’t an option. At least not now. But a bunch of flowers seemed so innocent, so unassuming. Nobody would know the meaning behind them like they would know the meaning behind a kiss. 

Yelran was using these flowers to say what he couldn’t find the words to tell him. Of course it made sense, this was his first time actually being with someone intimately, it was to be expected to be shy. But apparently he had a more erotic side than he’d expected. At the end of the day, after you stripped away all the layers and fancy descriptions, these flowers said loud and clear: ‘I want to fuck you’. Or rather, ‘I want you to fuck me’. Bull’s stomach dropped at the realization. 

The little elf had been sending him dirty messages this whole time, and he had had no idea. He suddenly felt very warm.   
For some reason, the secrecy made it that much more alluring. 

What had the other flowers he sent meant? Had they had similar messages? The last bunch he had received still lied on the table, wilted and dried but still recognizable. He picked them up gently. 

These were white as well, but much bigger, looking like roses more than anything. But they didn’t smell like roses. Even now, in their shriveled state, the thick, sweet scent of them choked the air. 

These were easier to identify. Under the illustration of the flower, it was noted to have a balmy, floral scent unlike the roses it shared appearance to. It was called Gardenia. 

“Gardenias are lovely, bright white flowers that typically grow in the wet forests of the Emerald Graves. When a person is unable to outwardly express their feelings of love for another, sending a gardenia is a subtle way to convey that affection. They signify a secret passion and tell the receiver, ‘you’re lovely’.”

That seemed too gentle a message. He scanned the description for any mention of sentiments similar to the Coriander, but found nothing. 

He didn’t have the first flowers he had received anymore, but remembered what they looked like. They had been quite striking and unique, with thick, curved purple bulbs clustered in a stalk. They had looked vaguely obscene. 

He recognized the illustration first, fitting the image in his mind’s eye. The description that accompanied it read;

“Milkvetch. A unique flower that grows in clusters atop mountain shrubs. Known by all Fereldan Druffalo farmers for its uncanny ability to lure and poison their livestock. When harvested and given, however, it looses its venomous prestige and conveys a feeling of comfort that the giver feels for the receiver. The giver of a Milkvetch wants you to know that your presence softens their pain.” 

Bull’s chest tightens as he reads, feeling suddenly vulnerable. Gently, he closes the book and puts it away. 

Yelran had put so much thought into these gifts, which he’d had no idea of until now. _Your presence softens my pain_. That’s what he’d wanted, right? He’d wanted to give the inquisitor a safe place to relax, to step away from his duties and let someone else take control. He’d been telling himself over and over that was what this was about; helping the inquisitor do his job. But knowing Yelran felt safe and comfortable in his presence was different for some reason. It made it more real, more intimate. It made it mean more. It wasn’t what Bull did, it was him, his presence, that Yelran loved. A chill curls down his spine. 

He pushes these swirling, confusing thoughts aside, packaging it away neatly to be mulled over later. It was an old Ben-Hassrath trick to clear the mind of confusion. 

However, as he lied in bed going over the training drills he would do tomorrow, he couldn’t help it when his mind kept wandering back to the flowers, their leaning, and how that fit into the puzzle of their relationship. He struggled with this well into the night before sleep finally came, drowning out any thoughts in heavy, inky darkness. 


End file.
